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rebekahrosler

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Always The Third Wheel
Always The Third Wheel 150 150 rebekahrosler

It’s funny, I was laying in bed (really the couch) this morning (“this morning” defined by 2-5am when either someone woke up screaming, I had to pump, or some other fun activity) – feeling uninspired. I want to keep writing, but the mood really needs to move me in order to do so. I can’t just pick up a “pen” and start.

I thought about recent occurrences with one baby or another – none felt funny enough, or heart wrenching enough, that they’d be worthy of putting pen to paper.

I’d already touched on all things job/career/dream related. I’ve done the “amazing husband” post. I felt like I might just need to take a brief hiatus until inspiration struck.

And then it did.

I write a lot with humor, or babies, but if I get to the heart of it, I don’t really write about me. Sure, me as a mom, me as a wife who doesn’t clean enough. But not truly, deeply about me.

So this one, is, about me.

I’ve been lucky in life to meet incredible people. I have so many friends and acquaintances, that I lose track. Friends and family say I “collect people”. This is not intended to be a popularity contest. Quite the contrary in fact. The joys of having so many friends – is that you can always be in touch with someone about something.

But if I’m being really honest, it can be really lonely. It means, it’s hard to have the “best friend” people always talk about.

In my life I’ve been a part of many social circles, hell I’ve created most of them. And though, maybe I’m at the epicenter – it’s kind of like everything is floating around me.

I’m not blaming anyone really – I’m sure I’ve done it to myself. But throughout my life, I’ve constantly found myself in friendships with two other people, and am always the third wheel. We may all be close. But they are ALWAYS just a little closer. I inevitably find out after the fact, that plans were made, and I wasn’t included. Conversations were happening, and I wasn’t a part of them. And if really listening to myself, it makes my heart hurt. I’m a friendly person. I’m a social person. Believe I try to not let anyone feel left out. Go out of my way to include and connect people. If you’re reading this, you probably wouldn’t have imagined this about me. But I’m in a constant state of feeling left out.

I’m sure if I brought this up to friends they would offer up, oh we didn’t think you’d be free because…pregnant/102 babies/haven’t slept/assumed you couldn’t make it. But I wish people would let me make that decision. If that’s even the case. Maybe they simply don’t think (want?) to include me.

Or, and maybe I haven’t gotten to the heart of it – but maybe there’s something about me that isn’t best friend material.

I’m certain there are things I’ve done in life that have gotten me here. Instead of saying Yes to everything, I have been inclined to say No. I don’t always put myself out there, often times prefer the comfort of my own home to a party/bar/girl’s night out. So people around me get closer, and I, get sleep or TV (or at least used to, now I just get peed on – and not even in “that kind of way”).

And though all the above may be true, I also get sad when people choose everyone else (anyone else?) over me.

Granted I don’t want to be friends – or best friends with everyone – but those I’m close with, I wonder why they are closer with that one other person – and choose not to be, with me? The reality is, I might actually say no to the invite, but I’d like to be asked.

Maybe I don’t offer open conversation or invites to friends – though I think I do. At the end of the day, it just makes me think people like other people more than me. And that’s just a shitty feeling. I understand this is life – and of course this is going to happen. But it’s astounding how in my entire life I continue to find myself in this role as the odd (wo)man out.

I’m not unhappy. Hardly. I’m ecstatic about where I am in life. But this is a recurring theme that reared it’s head again this morning, and made me realize I’ve never fully processed it out loud. I’ve repressed it for sure. But ultimately – it returns.

So I guess this a post to just reinforce that everything you see isn’t the whole story. There is ALWAYS more. And just once in my life – outside of my marriage, of course – I wish someone (someone I would want too) would want me as their person, their second wheel, not an afterthought.

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What Is It You Plan To Do With Your One Wild And Precious Life?
What Is It You Plan To Do With Your One Wild And Precious Life? 150 150 rebekahrosler

There has been precisely one decision I have made in my life that I did not second guess.

That was marrying Nathan.

Never had I been more certain about anything, ever. Before and after that – my entire life has/had been a series of questions. Did I order the wrong salad for lunch? Should I wear different socks? Is this the time to have a child? From the most insignificant to the most monumental – they’ve all been questioned; I even returned my first wedding dress.

I constantly wonder what it would be like to be 100% confident in something.

This past week I re-learned that feeling.

After my metamorphosis to motherhood everything simply changed, as life does. My passions and desires shifted; what was once of the utmost importance became less significant and what changed my identity became my number one priority.

Before Harper was born I built (what began as) an online community for new moms having babies around the same time, to connect with each other.

It can be lonely.

But what I learned – it absolutely doesn’t need to be.

This group of Winter Moms and Winter Babies became my world for the first six months of my child’s life (and far, far beyond). We bonded, had each other, our babies became friends – and we had a kick ass maternity leave filled with picnics on the lawn, mid day drinks at bars, and just someone else to talk to about all the stuff no one tells you about. Or simply a walk to Buy Buy Baby, because why not buy more unnecessary shit for our kids.

Some of these moms are my closest friends. And our kids will be friends “forever”.

It was a saving grace to so many, and so hugely meaningful on a deeper level, for me.

After seeing this new community thrive, and the positive impact it had – I realized the infertility journey, too, could be an isolating experience – and these strong, strong women needed their own support network.

I created a virtual group called Warriors (no, you can’t find it, it’s secret – but if you or someone you know could use this group, please connect.) Two+ years later, this, now, international group has become a safe space for so many women who are on a journey. Some of these women have become life long friends – others sit quietly behind the screen and learn from those who came before them. Some stay anonymous – some attend gatherings. But the incredibly kind words I’ve heard from these women show that the need for a female support system is something lacking in the every day.

I kept imagining where there were pockets that needed to be filled and tried to fill them. I created a twin group, a post fertility treatment group, then a new 2017 baby group. There were more, but that’s not the point. The point is – through my transformation I learned what makes me tick, what now inspires me – and what truly makes me happy, my inner most passion. And that’s helping women and their journey to motherhood.

Women who are on a path. Women who are looking for support. Women who need guidance or resources. A shoulder. An ear. A community. A drink. A night out. A friend.

All too often we compete with one another.

I’m looking at you.

And me.

But we just don’t need to. We need to lift each other up. Help each other. A fire has been ignited in this new empowered generation and I am proud to be a part of it.

So, tomorrow, will be my last day at my job. A place I’ve called home for 5 and a half years. A space that has seen me through so much. That helped me grow, flourish, and find myself.

I will take this hat off tomorrow afternoon, I will leave midtown, take a deep breath and know that beyond the shadow of a doubt – I made the absolute, unequivocal – right decision for me, at this time in my life.

This will be the second time in my life that I am 100% certain.

As of Monday I will put a new hat on. I likely won’t shower, and will be in comfy clothes – but a new hat nonetheless.

I won’t stress getting the kids to daycare at 7:30am, maybe I’ll even stay cuddled in bed with them a little while longer.

I then won’t have to rush and worry at 5:28pm about how the hell I’m going to get back downtown to all 3 kids and get them out of school by 6 on the dot to not incur the $1 a minute late fee. In fact, maybe I’ll pick them up early and take them to the playground, a music class, a bar – whatever!

These are unchartered waters and I could not be more excited to face them.

Who knows, maybe I’ll go…dare I say it…to a spin class after 3 years??? (Probably not, but definitely a Russian Bath trip or two).

And the icing on this beautiful carvel cake that’s covered in Cadbury Creme Eggs – my friend and I had a dream, a vision. We talked about it the last weekend in January. And then we went into hyper overdrive action my last month of maternity leave.

We want to create a community among moms in NYC. It’s a 360 degree offering to women who are on their journey to motherhood, through pregnancy, after pregnancy – with a new baby, a toddler. And beyond. All day, every day – in my free time – I meet total strangers on Facebook or in a coffee shop – who ask me advice on infertility, or how the hell to raise twins and a toddler – or other things that I’m highly unqualified to answer. But, I welcome the new friend with open arms. I listen. I share. We talk. And a new relationship is born.

Mostly people are looking for companionship and conversation.

Now I get to do that all day, every day.

And I cannot fucking wait.

This door is closing. But a beautiful set of floor to ceiling glass doors, overlooking the most gorgeous scenery, with the sound of crashing waves and light pouring through are opening in front of me and I could not be more ready to take that first step.

Goodbye for now.

OOO.

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No Longer a Catepillar
No Longer a Catepillar 150 150 rebekahrosler

I just ended my longest relationship.

The courtship began while I was in my early 30s. I gave to it, all of me. She taught me about myself. Five and a half years later so much has changed and it was time for me to welcome that reality.

It was time for me to say goodbye.

She treated me well. Offered me a home, a place to grow. To learn. To make mistakes. To find my strengths and weaknesses. She taught me life lessons. I stumbled a few times. She picked me up. She ushered me into my next stage of life. She saw me through a new relationship. An engagement. A marriage. Infertility. In fact, she paid for the treatments. Both times. She provided me the means to create new lives. She was there for the birth. A metamorphosis.

My metamorphosis.

She gave me the time to find myself after the greatest shift my life had seen. Then through another pregnancy. This one was harder – but she supported me and gave me the space I needed to heal. And then through the birth of my last babies. She gave me a home and friends during all of these life milestones.

She taught me patience. And perspective.

And then I returned to her. Hat in hand. This time, though, something was different. My love, desire and passion for her evaded me. There had been a much deeper shift. She was the same.

I was not.

My time had come to walk away. To thank her for building me up. For nurturing me. For giving me friendships and teachings. For helping me mature. It was not easy. A break up never is. You question yourself. You question the reason. You look at the big picture. And at the moment. Ultimately you just must decide what’s best for you. I shared with her, the news yesterday. She wasn’t surprised. Hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. But understood. Things were different.

I was different.

You can’t hold on to a butterfly.

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Gratitude
Gratitude 150 150 rebekahrosler

I think the most eye opening thing about having children, is how everything else in your life shifts.

It’s almost like your past life never happened.

I’m only 2 years deep into this whole thing, and as I scroll back through pictures of pre-babies, I’m reminded life wasn’t always spit up and poop – but almost can’t even remember those days.

I caught up with an old friend recently, we hadn’t had quality time together in ages – and we reminisced about the good old days.

College – yikes.

Post College NYC – even yikes-ier.

If I attempted a fraction of what I once did in a week then, now, I would be dead. It’s truly incredible the phases our lives take on, with us in the passenger’s seat.

I imagine I will not be alone in thinking or saying this, but what might get neglected the most, once you have children, is the thing that brought them into this world.

When I met Nathan, that moment – I knew, everything was about to change. There was absolutely, unequivocally, something different about him, about us.

Maybe he didn’t know, but I knew – he was the one I was going to be with and create a life with.

Now, I am not one to believe in ‘meant to be” – in the esoteric sense – but after simply talking to him, I knew I would love him.

Our courtship was a relatively quick one – met online, first date two weeks later, dated a year, engaged/moved in and married within the next year. But I appreciated every day in that brief dating experience. I had waited an insanely long time for the right guy, for me. And he was it. He fit absolutely none of my long list of criteria.

And thank god he didn’t.

Rarely do I have trouble finding words – but around this, I seem to. Nathan is my everything. And I hate to say it, but since this brood expanded, I believe I haven’t said it enough, haven’t appreciated him enough.

Relationships often work best when there are complementary personalities within them. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, that is us.

And it works…

For the most part, of course.

The choice to have children is a big one – your life changes – entirely – and there is no version of going back. The quick trips out of the city. The long walks, holding hands, aimlessly. The vacations. The sleep. Just the two of you. They all become fond, albeit distant, memories while scrolling through pictures.

Do I regret anything in this current life? No. Do I wish there were more hours in a day where just the two of us, could be just the two of us, again? Absolutely. Will it happen at some point in the future? I’ve heard it does – though from this vantage point, I’m not sure I see that light at the end of the tunnel.

Along with my recent near miss, came a new found appreciation and sense of gratitude. I adore my husband like no one I have ever encountered. He is a good, good person. He is kind and thoughtful, he is loving and warm. He is moral and honest. He is creative and smart. Dedicated and loving. Funny and inquisitive. He has amazing ethic and an even more incredible heart. And supports me being me entirely. But most importantly he is a true partner and the most adoring father.

He doesn’t ever meet me half way, he goes way, way, way beyond. He is the strength to all my weaknesses.

I am not here to brag. Hardly. We have a TON of shit we should be working on. But ain’t no one got time for that. We had an incredible year of therapy right at the outset of our marriage because (I believe) everyone should. Two different people with two different communication styles and many different approaches to life and what matters. Get that crap sorted out at the beginning so you can start on solid ground. (And if not at the beginning, find another time. It’s so important. Ok, I’ll get off my therapy soapbox now).

I know there are more things, ahem, we should be doing, as a married couple. And I know we will again. But right now, we are raising the next generation, of good, kind (hopefully!) humans. I can only hope that when their time comes to begin their true adventure of life, we can be role models, in our marriage, so they too, seek out the right person for them – to build something beautiful and spectacular together.

I hope they learn, it is always worth the wait.

My final quote in my wedding vows was by Anne Bancroft, on her marriage to Mel Brooks:

“Whenever I hear his key in the door, I think, o goody, the party is about to begin.”

Nathan, if you’re reading this, I owe you everything, I do not take any of it for granted, I love you, I thank you, there will be vacations one day again, you will sleep through the night at some point. You are what keeps my heart beating…and no, I still haven’t done the dishes.

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Appreciate The Rainbows
Appreciate The Rainbows 150 150 rebekahrosler

Last Week I got hit by a car.

Obviously I’m fine if I’m sitting here writing this.

But, yeah a goddamn car backed into me. We were both at fault I suppose, though I did have the light. Truthfully that’s irrelevant. In the grand scheme of things – getting hit by a car ends in one of two ways.

I walked away. And walked towards something, in that moment.

What you hear – or have seen in movies – is all true. Everything comes rushing over you.

Perhaps its the adrenaline, maybe just the overwhelming emotion of what could be – or could have been.

What I know now to be true, is that nothing matters in life besides the moment.

We are always waiting for something. The weekend. The raise. The house. But rarely do we actually take the time, in the moment, to appreciate what is immediately in front of us.

I’m hardly trivializing dreams and wishes and wanting. I went through infertility treatments so I absolutely appreciate desires and disappointments.

But even in the hardest of times. There still are the moments. The hot coffees. The new Love. The first day of summer. The puppy noses. The beach. The mountains.

It’s so easy – I’m the biggest offender – to get swept up in ‘what the future holds.’ But that second a car strikes you, you realize that the future is uncertain. And planning and wishing too much probably won’t allow you to live the absolute best life you can live – right now.

I don’t suggest getting hit by a car. It really sucks. But I do recommend sitting. Breathing. Meditating. Whatever you need to do – to ground you for a moment. To make it all come into focus. To make it all clear.

Also, maybe, and this is me saying it ‘outloud’ so I have to be accountable, but maybe – it’s worth putting down the phone more frequently than we (ok, I) do. And be present among those you love. The dog. The partner. The kid.

Yourself.

Social Media does not help us live our own lives well. It creates jealousy, longings, desires based often on fabrication. Let me tell you. No bank accounts have enough in them. No marriage is perfect. No children are always angels. Sure, the beach from ‘that angle’ is pretty wonderful – but we have no idea what happened right before or right after that image was captured.

It’s time we’re all kinder to ourselves – we need to try desperately to truly appreciate what we have. Sure it could be better. But it also could be so much worse.

Today is truly first day of the rest of your life.

Pause. Love. Breathe. Dance. Sing. Sit.

Appreciate the rainbows.

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Daddy, Penis, Harper, Vagina, Mommy…
Daddy, Penis, Harper, Vagina, Mommy… 150 150 rebekahrosler

I know as a mom of 3 and a 38 year old woman, it’s pretty much expected that – no – I do not have my 18 (or 21, or 30…or even 35) year old body.

I also know we are supposed to be comfortable with that. “Your body is incredible” “you carried these babies, it’s really a miracle”.

Blah blah.

I mean. Yeah. I get it. It’s for sure true. But, I looked pretty good at 18 (and 21 and still 30). And this thing that flops over my pants (pants that I basically need a clamp to pull/zip up) is just not my favorite. Nor are the Grandma arms. And what the hell with my feet? I need an entire new shoe wardrobe.

Sure, our society sets unrealistic expectations of what women should look like. Period.

I get that – but I’m also only human and still suck my stomach in any time I walk by a mirror. And pick up my chin so the second (and third chins) flatten, just a tad.

I wish I could say I’m at peace with my new (“beautiful”) shape. But I won’t.

Ain’t true.

Let me be clear. I am eating chocolate chip cookies for breakfast. Doritos as a snack. Whatever handful of, whatever’s available for lunch. Hopefully some version of a chocolate bar for a treat. (It is Cadbury Cream Egg season afterall.) And definitely some ice cream throughout the day. So. I certainly cannot cry “poor me”. But, I can still be annoyed that – no, shockingly, breastfeeding DOES NOT melt the pounds away. And this is likely my new normal.

All this is just to say, I obviously don’t care THAT much or I would do something – anything – to change my behavior.

A salad from time to time, or a veggie for a change.

But. Nah. Bagels and Cheese are just too damn good.

I guess it all became more apparent with a recent realization from my ever loving – pretty verbal – 2 year old.

We are not of the mindset of teaching our kids that genitalia have cutesy or hush-hush names.

They are penises and vaginas.

Apparently Nathan had been keeping this one from me for a while. But then it all came out.

Kids say the darnedest things, eh?

[wpvideo 7JCrjEgh ]

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My Kid Is Full Of Shit
My Kid Is Full Of Shit 150 150 rebekahrosler

Yeah. No. I’m serious. She really is.

For the last two months she’s been telling us, on repeat her “vagina hurts”. And I know this isn’t funny.

And In fact it’s really sad.

When your kid is hurting – and you can’t fix it – or figure out the problem – it hurts you, possibly more than it hurts them. But I think I’ve said and heard the word Vagina more in the last two months than I have in 38 years. And obviously, I have one.

We’ve gone to the doctor five times on this matter. And each time they’ve taken tests. Checked for infections. And they’ve all come back negative.

Put diaper cream on it. If that doesn’t work try cortisone. If not that. Bacitracin.

No? Vagina still hurts?

Nothing’s worked.

Finally we took a trip uptown to a pediatric urologist. I told Harper I was breaking her out of school for some Mommy Harpy time.

This had the luxury of being true. But hanging out at Weil Cornell for a full afternoon was likely not what she had anticipated.

After a few hours. Some ultrasounds, X-rays and a lot of stickers we learned of the culprit.

My kid is full of shit.

Apparently she is so blocked up with stool (for the last two months?? ?) that it’s affecting her in more indirect ways. Which is obviously heartbreaking.

So for the next two days Harper and I will be home. Having extra special Harper Mommy time. Regrettably – this actually means: Bowel Cleanse.

We will be sitting on the toilet for 48 hours.

It’s really amazing. Before you meet your significant other you think ‘I need to look my best.’ Then you get engaged and start letting things go, just a bit. Then you live together and obviously bodily functions occur – that starts normalizing. But once the kids come EVERYTHING is out the window.

I’d venture to say 9 out of 10 conversations are about poop or vomit.

Needless to say – ultimately all that matters is my kid’s health.

Last week Harper and I Celebrated and Honored International Womens Day by attending the largest gathering of Moms at the UN. While “in session,” she had to poop.

So, what do you do when you’re in one of the most important places in the world?

No brainer.

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Behind the Mask
Behind the Mask 150 150 rebekahrosler

This may sound dramatic. It does even as I write it.

But, it’s real, from the depths of me.

I am not strong. I am not tough. In fact, today, I am crushed.

They are five months young.

How can I send my two tiny babies away every day?

How can I have someone else raise them morning, noon and evening? Why can’t it be me? They need my warmth. My love. My heart.

People say “you know it’s good for them.”

Do I?

This isn’t about them.

This is about me.

I can admit that.

Until I had my own I didn’t understand the pull another human can have on your entire soul. Being separated from them already seems too heavy a cross to bear.

I’ve been in denial.

Haven’t organized the milk they’ll need, milk my body creates, every day. In bags. With dates. Frozen for months. In preparation for this day. So someone else can give them sustenance.

Haven’t filled out the required forms (a reminder call from daycare prompted me to accept, the time has come). Don’t know where their crib sheets are. Didn’t even bring the forms to the doctor that need to be turned in – in order for them to start. (Which will now be an expedited $50 each).

It’s 9:30 the night before they leave me – and nothing is prepared. I am not prepared.

It’s just not fair.

I pride myself on being the strong one. But right now, I can’t breathe or pick myself up off the floor.

I know it gets easier. I’ve been here before. But that doesn’t make me want to walk them through those doors tomorrow in my arms, and leave empty handed.

My heart is broken. My breath is short. I want to hold them tight now and forever.

I don’t want to go to sleep. Sleep brings the day I’ve been dreading. They leave me tomorrow, and there is no stopping time or turning back the clock.

This is me. Torn apart. Heartbroken. Behind the mask.

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The End
The End 150 150 rebekahrosler

Today is the last day I will ever be on maternity leave.

It’s the last day I will wake up to my sole role in life being: Mom.

The last time my entire day will be about simply taking care of my babies – and nothing else.

Sure, there will be weekends, and sick days, and vacations. But maternity leave is just different. And today is the last day of it for my forever. Five months and 14 days of captured memories and moments.

Often times people say the end is bittersweet. But right now, I’m finding this ending is just bitter. My babies are 5m old. And I’m simply not ready to go.

My leave with Harper was 3 short months, I certainly wasn’t ready then. But I knew there would be more. More babies, more newborn moments, more bonding, more breastfeeding, more leave – so the end wasn’t really the end.

The air is different today.

This end signifies other ends. They’re getting older and will be starting solids soon. This means a decrease in my supply. Which means my breastfeeding days will be numbered. I have just spent the better part of the last two years attached to a mouth, or a machine, to provide sustenance, nutrients and bonding for my three babies.

Of course I’d love to have my body back – if that’s even possible – but this end, I will take very hard. I’m not there quite yet.

Their newborn clothes have been packed away and given to friends. We will never be needing them again.

38, these days, doesn’t seem old. But to have something be forever done, absolutely- feels a bit overwhelming. Nathan and I just signed and notarized a life changing document.

We will be donating our last remaining embryo, to science, officially.

So when I say over, I mean, over.

Seeing the ads and pictures of newborns flooding my screen gives me pause, makes my heart skip a beat, and I tear up. That will never be my reality, my life, again.

I sit here on this last day considering my journey. How I got here. Who was along for the ride. The metamorphosis, the transformation – the incredible shift that took place in my life over the last three years.

The doors are gently shutting behind me today and when I wake up tomorrow a new chapter, nay, a new book, begins. I’d like to say I’m prepared. I’m ready. It’s for the best. But, then, I wouldn’t be honest.

Today will be full of deep breaths, baby cuddles, and many, many tears.

I have no clever parting words. I’m simply not ready for it all to end.

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Babies and Chemicals
Babies and Chemicals 150 150 rebekahrosler

Judgement free zone here. Right?

FML.

Besides the fact that the babies gave up sleeping this week, I felt like things were lightening up a bit. Harper’s tantrums were less frequent. I got on a scale accidentally and wasn’t horrified by the number. I’ve been working on a project with a friend that I’m SUPER stoked for. (Stay tuned).

All in all, I was feeling good.

Then, this morning happened.

Nathan had to get to BK early to move the car. Which is fine. I can totally handle dressing two babies – popping them in the stroller and still manage to get a 2yo to school by 8am.

Yeah. I can definitely handle that.

The addition of a 20yo cat peeing on the wall. And the 3yo dog peeing on (through…) the carpet, on the other hand – I did not bake into the equation.

It was only 7am though. I could still manage to clean it all, get H to school, and to an exciting/important/fun meeting I had planned.

Ehhhm. Nah. I can’t.

By 7:30am I had two babies face down in the carpet (yup, dog pee carpet) laying in their own vomit. This, while I had the swiffer, natures miracle, resolve, 10lbs of baking soda, a vacuum and a toddler with one rain boot on, next to me.

I tried to clean. Used a mop. Some powder. Some spray. And not surprisingly – because I’m me. I managed to stain the wood floor – in my brand new rental apt – a nice shade of black. In more than one location.

Sweet. Luckily Harper was right beside me holding paper towels and a bottle that may as well have been hydrochloric acid, while licking her other hand.

Somehow over the course of the next four hours the situation remained exactly the same – except the toddler now had mandarin orange juice dripping down her chest and all over the (same) carpet, and crusty cream cheese on her face. Needless to say, the four loads of laundry piled on the kitchen table (since Monday), the three loads still in the basket from last night, crying pukey babies, urine emanating from…everywhere – nothing was getting done.

So, I called my Mom.

The toddler opened the door to let my dad in, but much more exciting – to take a shit diaper to the garbage chute. And I let her. Still wearing (only) one solitary rain boot.

The next 45 minutes proceeded to include one of her epic tantrums. You’d think it was in response to me stopping her from using chemicals to clean piss.

Nope.

She didn’t want to put on pants.

I guess we’ve all been there.

After pinning her down on the bed. Holding her with all my weight. I got underwear. Pants and a shirt on. But. NO. Not that shirt. Fifteen minutes more of screaming bloody murder. Until. Wait. Oh. Ok. Yes.That shirt.

Ultimately she would only go to school if I wore her on my back. But with no coat. Babies, by the way – still crying and mostly covered in spit up.

After the red behind my eyes turned a warmer shade of pink I was able to get her to school – only 4 1/2 hours late. Teeth and hair unbrushed. Definitely unfed and 45 mins past lunch. She was absolutely the dirty kid today. Hands down.

And of course. Parent teacher conference was (apparently) today. But as she’s 2yo I can say, with some conviction – it was cool if I skipped this one.

Sorry kid.

Babies asleep in the stroller I could definitely get home now and finally clean and still make the second half of my meeting at 3.

After a quick stop to get a six pack of Guinness – returned to the stroller. Four wide motherfucking eyes staring up at me. One bottom lip trembling.

I called it, right there.

Now, I’m home. the two babies finally decided to sleep. But only on me, of course. So the chemicals, the stain, the laundry – and the pee, are just going to have to wait.

Not making my meeting.

Not eating lunch.

If only I had a super duper bendy silly straw.

Cause, damn. That six pack of Guinness in the fridge is definitely not drinking itself.

TGIF

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